


New Life

by inspired66



Series: Franky and Bridget [1]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspired66/pseuds/inspired66
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Explores the first couple of months after Franky leaves Wentworth and the relationship she has with Bridget. Can two very different people build a life together? Franky is drawn to Erica. Does their relationship have a future? Takes place just after Franky's confession about Meg Jackson's murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Power of Love

**Author's Note:**

> There are some large gaps in my writing covering the period immediately after Franky leaves Wentworth but this period has been so well written and described by sticks_and_stones, hilliardmackenzie and Darkshines1984 that I didn't think there was anything I could add to it. My story assumes Bridget wasn't forced to resign so was at Wentworth when Franky's parole was granted. 
> 
> The depiction of the relationship that developed in only a few very short scenes between Bridget and Franky in season 3 was some of the best TV I've ever seen. In the penultimate episode my feelings were that they had no chance of developing a relationship outside Wentworth. Here's my exploration of whether that was the case.

Somewhere on the walk from the prison to her car Bridget felt a huge shift in her heart like a massive slice of ice falling off a glacier. Everything thrummed, her head buzzed. She was falling in love. She’d been in love four times before but those times it was a slower burn, a gradual realisation over a period of weeks. This one was different, it was happening in a matter of moments. An image of Franky came into her mind. She felt it lodge there like an imposter. She got to her car and sat shaking, adrenaline pulsed through her body and her legs felt weak. 

She felt as if she was a different person to the Bridget of half an hour before. Her whole being felt infused by Franky. Being in love with her almost felt akin to a religious experience. She drove home in a state of semi confusion. Once home she wandered aimlessly around the house. After about half an hour she collected herself, changed out of her work clothes and then went out for a walk. It was the best way she had of thinking. She had felt sexually attracted to Franky from very early on. That was relatively easily disguised (though clearly not from Franky herself who had twigged early on) and she could control it. She’d never felt attracted to a prisoner before. Still, these things happened, she was an adult, she could deal with it. However, falling in love was a lot harder to control. God, what if she didn’t get parole? What did Franky think of her? She clearly liked her but was there anything more than that? What would it be like to be in a relationship with someone who had such different life experience to her own? In a moment it seemed, her calm ordered life had been thrown into disarray.

As she was walking, she had her music on shuffle. A song came on her phone that she hadn’t paid much attention to before. 

I will be the answer  
At the end of the line  
I will be there for you  
While you take the time  
In the burning of uncertainty  
I will be your solid ground  
I will hold the balance  
If you can't look down  
(Sarah McLachlan ‘Answer’)

She was struck at how apt it was for her relationship with Franky. She listened to it again and again. She’d be there for Franky while she took the time. She’d never felt so sure of anything in her life. Maybe it wasn’t going to be a relationship where they’d grow old together, but she’d make the most of it while it lasted. 

As a psychologist she was more than aware of the obsessive compulsive nature of the ‘in love’ phase; how your brain went slightly crazy and all you could think of was that person. When you did see them it was a strange feeling – almost as if you had ‘conjured’ them up. A few days after she’d fallen in love she looked up and saw Franky waiting in the phone line. It was the first time she’d seen her since she’d fallen in love with her. She looked different – there was a halo about her head now. Falling in love with someone made you see the essence of the person. 

So why is it that we feel shy about revealing how we feel about someone to them? 

A week or so after the parole hearing one of the officers handed a letter to Bridget that had been opened – it was addressed to Franky advising her that her parole had been granted. Bridget felt a rush of pure joy and relief. She asked an officer to bring Franky to her office. Bridget didn’t beat about the bush. “Congratulations, you’ve got parole.” She handed Franky the letter. 

Franky didn’t speak at first, she didn’t allow herself to believe it. “Wow,” she said quietly after she had collected herself, “thanks.”

“It wasn’t me it was all down to you.”

“No, without your help and your report, I wouldn’t have got it. I’m really grateful.” Franky looked sincerely at Bridget. Bridget’s heart turned over. It was now or never. She took a deep breath.

“Franky, umm, I’ve got something I need to say to you.”

Franky looked curiously at her, waiting. 

Bridget’s heart thumped, ‘here goes,’ she thought. “I’m in love with you. Badly.” A huge smile came across Franky’s face. There was no trademark Franky smirk or swagger. 

Bridget continued, “I want to be with you. I want you to come and live with me when you get out.”

“Wow, how long have you felt this way?”

“Since just after you confessed about Meg Jackson. I wasn’t being entirely straight with you when we talked in the kitchen.”

Franky laughed and thought to herself, “I’ll have to confess to murders more often if they have this result.”

“I…” 

At that moment there was a knock on the door, it was Miss Miles. “Ms Westfall, you’re needed in admissions.” She looked at Franky, “I’ll take Doyle back to her unit.”

_______________________________________________________________  
   
That evening Bridget had arranged to have dinner with Jo her best friend whose partner and children were away for the weekend. She and Jo went way back to their first day at Uni. They’d bonded over an Orientation Day champagne breakfast on the median strip at the front of their College. Since then they’d shared houses, travelled, had dozens of friends in common, helped each other through break ups, heartbreaks, got drunk together and had a few disagreements. 

Bridget arrived at Jo’s door at 7. Jo answered and gave her a quick hug. She looked at her, “You look terrible, what’s the matter?”

Bridget waved the bottle of wine she had in her hand at her, “I need a glass of this and then I’ll tell you.” 

She made her way to Jo’s kitchen, got 2 glasses out of the cupboard and poured a glass each. They sat on the couch. “Come on, Bridge, out with it.”

“I’m in love.”

“Oh God, and I’m assuming she’s married given you look so terrible.”

“No, it’s worse than that.” She took a sip of her wine for courage. “She’s actually a prisoner.”

“Oh God Bridge, isn’t that one of the big no no’s?”

“Yes, it is.” Bridget loved how direct Jo was, but at the same time, it could be a bit scary.

“You haven’t been counselling her have you?”

“Yes – well, I was until I realised I was in a bit deep.”

“Oh Bridge, couldn’t you get struck off for that?”

“Well, I’m not counselling her now and I’ve discussed it all through my supervisor. Don’t worry, I’d get hauled over the coals by the Psych board if anyone reported it but that would be it.” That was a bit of a lie, she hadn’t told her supervisor the real reason.  
“Oh good, well, sort of good I suppose!”

They both chuckled. 

Bridget looked serious and close to tears, “I’ve never felt like this before. All I can think of is Franky. I’ve got it really bad. I am so in love with her. She’s had a pretty tough life, I can’t tell you all the details, but all I want to do is look after her.”

Jo raised her eyebrows, “All?”

Bridget grinned, “Well, not all of course!” They both laughed.

“She got parole today and I asked her if she wanted to live with me.” 

“Is that a good idea?”

“No, it’s probably a really bad idea, but I couldn’t help it. She has no one else to go to. Besides, I can’t wait to get my hands on her!”

Jo was surprised that her normally sensible friend could be so impulsive. “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to do anything like this, well maybe that time you dumped me in Vienna to go and shack up with that crazy Czech woman.”

They laughed, “Well that didn’t last long!” Bridget looked serious, “I know this sounds really dramatic, but this is it Jo. This is the big moment in my life. Maybe it will be one of those relationships where it crashes and burns after 6 weeks and I take 5 years to get over it. I’m willing to take the chance.”

“Wow, she must be something special.”

“She is. She is so gorgeous and funny and clever…” Bridget braced herself for the inevitable question. Funny how it was the one question you didn’t ask inside but the first anyone outside asked.

“What’s she in for, I suppose she’s some hot fraudster?”

“Umm, no, she’s in for GBH.” Bridget blushed, there was no way she was going to be able to hide this. “She’s a bit notorious actually. You remember that woman on the cooking show who threw hot oil at the presenter? Well, that’s her.”

“Oh.” Jesus, Jo thought to herself, this is serious. Bridget looked close to tears again. Jo tried from a different angle. “We’ve talked about this before, but at the beginning of a relationship the differences you have are really exciting but as the relationship gets older they can be the things that really give you the shits and sometimes what breaks it up.” She paused, Bridget didn’t answer.

“It sounds like you’re from quite different backgrounds, which can be hard down the track.”

“Jesus Jo, that sounds like something my mother would say.”

As much as she hated the whole idea of this woman and thought it was doomed to failure Jo felt she had to trust Bridget. “I know Julie Begg. She’s a parole officer assigned to Wentworth. I can give her a ring in the morning and see if she can get her assigned to a flat of her own rather than a half way house. In that way you can see her whenever you want.”

Bridget shot her a grateful look, “Thanks Jo Jo.”

“Can you promise me one thing though? You need to be careful of the violence. You haven’t had any experience of it and she’s obviously experienced a fair bit of it. Be on your guard.” The words ‘violent criminal’ hung between them, unsaid.

“Yes, I promise. She’d never do anything to hurt me.”

Yes, that’s what they all say, Jo thought to herself.

Bridget got up to go, she hugged Jo tight. “Thanks, I feel so much better.” She was so lucky to have a friend like Jo, who clearly disapproved, but was still willing to help.

As soon as Bridget had gone, Jo googled ‘hot oil cooking show’ and was taken straight to a You tube video which had over 2 million hits. She watched in horror at her friend’s new girlfriend. She marvelled at the power of life to surprise and the power of love to bridge seemingly insurmountable differences between two people.


	2. The Promise

After Bridget had sorted out the parole arrangements with Julie Begg, Franky’s parole officer, she asked an officer to bring her to her office. They hadn’t seen each other since the declaration Bridget had made when they were interrupted by Miss Miles. Franky bounded into her office with the most beautiful smile Bridget had ever seen. They touched hands and sat down. 

Bridget tried as hard as she could to keep it professional, “I just need to give you some details about your parole arrangements. Your parole officer Julie Begg will come in and see you tomorrow to go through them in detail, but she’s arranged a small flat for you to live in and a job. It’s only 25 hours a week but that should give you some time to study.”

“So, I don’t have to go to one of those half way houses. How’s that? Who paid the bond?”

“Well, don’t worry about the bond now. The main thing you need to do is to get settled.”

“So did you pay it?”

Bridget paused, she didn’t want Franky to feel she was beholden to her. Not a great start to a relationship. “Yes, I paid it, but you can pay me back when you get on your feet.”

Franky looked down, God what had she done to deserve this. She mumbled a ‘Thanks’ not trusting herself to say any more. There was a silence. Franky took a breath, “I’ve been thinking about what you told me the other day. I want to know if this is going to be one of those flings where we fuck for 6 weeks until you get me out of your system and then you dump me?” 

“No, I meant everything I said.”

“So it’s not just some sort of infatuation that you’ll think better of?”

“No.”

There was silence while they looked at each other. Bridget waited for her to speak, ‘come on give me something back Franky’ she thought to herself. Franky stared at her, the words wouldn’t form. Hard to say those things sitting fully clothed in an office – much easier naked in bed – not that she’d ever said them to anyone even when naked in a bed. She acknowledged to herself how brave Bridget had been the other day to say what she felt. She hoped her eyes were conveying all she couldn’t say.

“Good,” Franky sounded unintentionally business-like. “Can I see you when I get out?”

Bridget grinned, “Yes please.” They beamed at each other. She just needs to take it slowly Bridget thought, she’s obviously not quite there yet. Oh God, I hope she gets there because I won’t be able to stand it if she doesn’t. 

“There is something I have to ask you.” Bridget screwed up her courage, this was going to ruin the moment. “Kim Chang cornered me in the corridor yesterday and told me you’d hit her. Is that true?”

Franky’s eyes darkened. She considered lying and then decided against it. “Yes, I slapped her. For spreading those rumours.”

“It looked like more than a slap to me – her lip was split and her face bruised.”

Franky looked ashamed. This was going to have to stop. She couldn’t risk anything with Bridget. 

“Franky. That’s the last time you use violence. Promise me.”

Franky felt her anger rise. Bridget sounded like a fucking school teacher. How dare she tell her what to do! Bloody Kim deserved it, stupid bitch. And then what she put her through by planting those drugs in her cell. Jeez, if she got hold of her now...

Bridget watched Franky as these thoughts played on her face. Franky looked at her frowning. A minute passed. Franky pulled herself together. This did have to stop or she’d find herself in Wentworth again. No more. No more violence. No more aggression. Her eyes filled as she met Bridget’s. “Yes, I promise. No more.” Bridget breathed out.


	3. Can a Leopard change its spots?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a bit of poetic licence here. The letters were actually given back to Franky by Ferguson at the beginning of Series 2. I've changed it so that Franky knows they were never sent but they hadn't been given back to her.

The first week after Franky’s release passed in a blur of sensuality. There was the sex of course, which was wonderful, but it wasn’t as if Franky had exactly gone without while inside. It was the nature of it; unhurried, loving. Making love. Franky had always scorned that expression, but now she could see that it described something totally different from what she’d previously experienced. The other things she experienced were almost as amazing. Smaller things that you don’t appreciate unless you’ve spent 4 years in the discomfort of jail; clean 1500 thread count white sheets, a comfortable large bed, real coffee, real orange juice, steak, food prepared from the best and freshest ingredients and the comfort of sleeping in a bed with someone else. The ability to manage your own time without a bell telling you what to do; the feeling of safety. Bridget had taken the week off work and they spent every moment of it together from the moment Bridget had picked her up.

It was Franky’s birthday a week after she was released. Bridget had bought presents and supplies for a nice breakfast and booked a fancy restaurant for that evening. She got up before Franky woke to get things organised. She arranged the presents around the bed then watched Franky sleeping. She looked so young and innocent while asleep. After watching her for a while she couldn’t bear the anticipation any longer so nuzzled into her neck to wake her up. “Happy birthday” she whispered in her ear, then kissed her softly on the lips. Franky woke with a smile on her face. She sat up and saw the presents arranged around the bed. “Wow, are they all for me?”

Bridget smiled, “Of course, whose else would they be!”

Franky got a far away look on her face. She’d never had so many presents. Bridget noticed her change in mood. Her mother clearly wasn’t the type to shower her with presents. Bridget saw the meagre offerings a foster family would provide, the ‘one size fits all’ charity presents. God, there were layers of disadvantage here she wondered if she’d ever be able to unwrap. Franky seemed to snap out of her melancholy, “So can I open them,” she grinned. 

Bridget handed her the largest one. Franky ripped the paper off it. It was a laptop. “Wow Gidge, that’s generous, thanks.” Her eyes were shining, she was taking a child like pleasure in this. Bridget was chuffed, glad that it had worked out so well. Not that it was difficult finding presents for a woman who really only had the clothes on her back. She’d bought her books, running shoes, clothes, underwear and had a photo she’d taken on their first day together printed and put in a frame. She hoped it wasn’t too much too soon. Don’t be silly, she chided herself, why hold back? Why not show how much you love her? She’d hoped she’d gathered a bit of wisdom in the 44 years she’d had on this earth. In her experience, it was the things you didn’t do which you regretted, not the things you did do. You should never regret loving too much even if it all turned to shit in the long run.

Franky tried on the shoes, they fitted perfectly. “How did you know my size?” 

“Good guess.” Bridget said. She didn’t tell her that she’d looked up her file where shoe and clothes sizes were listed. It was intrusive enough for Franky to know she had read the very large file on her, without reminding her of it. 

Franky looked carefully at each of the books. Bridget asked, "So did you get into reading while you were inside or before? It must have been a godsend when you were inside." 

"Yeah, I would have gone insane without it. I got into it at school. I had a fantastic English teacher in year 9 and 10. She took time with me. I was such a dickhead at school, you can imagine. She was strict and didn't put up with any of my bullshit but she was really encouraging. She really saved me, I was in foster care and not having a great time. I spent most classes standing outside the class because the teachers didn't want me in the classroom. Mrs Haberecht would bring her own books from home to lend to me."

Bridget was curious – that made sense. Despite Franky’s abusive childhood and the trauma she had suffered in gaol there was a groundedness to her. She had strength. That probably came from the first 10 years of her life when her father was around and possibly from the influence of a good adult in her teen years. It seemed that Mrs Haberecht might have appeared at just at the right time. 

“Now it’s my turn to say thanks,” Franky interrupted her reverie. She carefully placed all the presents on the floor next to the bed and then dived under the covers. 

_______________________________________  
“Where do you keep your computer paper?” Franky yelled to Bridget who was upstairs.

“In the drawer next to the computer.”

Franky rummaged through the drawer. Her attention was drawn to a bundle of letters. She realised with a shock that they were in her handwriting. She snatched them up. They were the letters she’d written to Erica that had never been sent. The last time she’d seen them was when the Freak showed them to her months ago. She felt a surge of anger – what the fuck were they doing at Bridget’s house? Her first instinct was to sweep a lamp off the coffee table, the second was to roar Bridget’s name. Bridget raced downstairs. 

Franky loomed over her, shouting; “How the fuck have you got these? They’re my private letters.”

Bridget involuntarily stepped back, a flash of fear went across her face. Franky gripped her by the shoulder and waved the letters in her face. She breathed, trying to control herself. All the feelings of being in jail surged though her: the lack of privacy, of control, of being a second class citizen who couldn’t even post a letter. 

“Franky, let go of me, I can explain.”

Franky released her, adrenaline still surging, her breathing fast, her face red with anger. 

Bridget tried to calm her breathing, “Ferguson gave them to me when I arrived to put on your file. They were there until I decided that as they were your property they didn’t belong on the file. I brought them here to give to you when you got out. I forgot, I’m sorry.” 

She sat down on the couch and touched her shoulder where Franky’s strong fingers had gripped. “I haven’t read them.”

Franky looked incredulous, “You’re telling me you didn’t read them? I don’t believe you.”

Bridget looked stubborn, “I didn’t.”

Franky could feel the adrenaline ebb away; she sat down on the coffee table, shaking, blood still pounding in her ears.

They stared at each other, Bridget shocked at the violence that lay just below the surface. She said coldly, “Don’t ever do that again. I thought you were going to hit me. I don’t care what terrible thing you think I’ve done.”

Franky realised how close she had come to hitting her. The old Franky would have hit first and not even waited for an explanation. A cold feeling hit her stomach as she saw the consequences of that and how her life would go back to the shitty path she’d been on – dodgy flatmates, too much drinking, a dead end job, dead end relationships.

“Oh God, I’m sorry.” She knelt at Bridget’s feet and sobbed into her knees. Bridget took pity on her and stroked her hair. That only made the tears come faster. After a while she pulled her up onto the couch next to her. Once Franky had controlled herself she said, “It’s amazing you didn’t read them, I would have thought normal human curiosity would win out. I would have. You’re such an amazing person, you make me better….mostly.” 

Bridget grinned, “We make each other better.” She paused, “now, tell me about Erica?”


	4. The mind has a life of its own

In Franky’s dream she was so close to coming, it seemed, for ages. She felt the most exquisite frustration. When she woke she realised what she’d been dreaming. She felt her heart contract, then start pounding. She’d been above Erica teasing her, watching her struggle against her, then submit, watched her coming. Oh God, how could she have dreamed that? Where had that come from? She looked over at Bridget breathing softly next to her. She hadn’t had an erotic dream about Erica for ages and all of a sudden there one was. Unbidden, disconcerting. She hadn’t even really thought of her for ages until Bridget had asked her to tell her about their relationship. God, not that it was a relationship – their ‘alliance’ or maybe ‘dalliance’ was the correct word. 

She thought of the difference between how she felt about Erica and how she feels about Bridget. With Erica there was lust, interest too, but she'd needed to conquer her. With Bridget she didn't feel the need to dominate and control. The dream disturbed her. She got quietly out of bed and got her running clothes and shoes and slipped out of the bedroom. A run would clear her head, banish those thoughts.

When she and Bridget had discussed Erica Franky had tried to be as honest as possible. She didn’t hide the hurt she’d felt at being abandoned by her. She described their kiss with as little salacious detail as possible. Bridget didn’t press her for details on that though was incredibly curious about it. She wondered how many prisoners had ever succeeded in pushing a Governor against a wall and forcefully kissing them without being charged? When Franky had mentioned in passing that Erica and Channing had slotted her for 5 weeks Bridget was shocked. “5 weeks! That didn’t make it into your file! That’s torture.” Franky was taken back to that time; the way her mind had played tricks on her, the boredom, the feeling of being let down, the injustice of it, the self hatred, insomnia, the rage, the fact that it took ages to get over. Maybe she still hadn’t, she had nightmares about it every now and then. 

“What had you done?” Bridget asked.

“They said I’d given drugs to another prisoner which I hadn’t.”

Bridget realised that although there was a lot she did know about Franky there was also a lot she didn’t know. “I can’t believe it, Franky, that is actually torture! Did she let you have any books or visitors?” 

“No.” Franky thought her anger was cute. 

“But she clearly liked you, she had a relationship with you, even if it was just from tutoring you for so long. What type of a woman is she? What did she do to people she didn’t like?” Bridget had spent a lot of her work time dealing with the fall out from women who were put in isolation. For some women, a day or two was enough to send them spiralling back to the dark places in their life. 

Franky smiled and reached out for her, “Jealous are you?”

Bridget moved into her arms, “No, I just hate the thought of anyone hurting you. Well, maybe a little bit jealous”, she conceded. Franky remembered that Bridget had fought with Ferguson to get her out of the slot after only one day when she hadn’t even known her. She put her head on her shoulder, “It was pretty bad,” she admitted, “I thought I’d go mad, probably did for a little while I think.” She didn’t tell Bridget that after she’d got out she’d narrowly avoided being gang raped with a screw driver. That was almost more traumatic than being slotted. She’d had nightmares for weeks after that. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Bea.

“I think it would probably be a good idea to talk to someone about all this as you’ve been through a lot.” Bridget had been meaning to say this for a while but hadn’t felt the moment was right.

“I’m talking to you aren’t I?”

“Yes, but I’m sure that you don’t tell me everything,” she looked into Franky’s eyes and got a silent acknowledgment of that, “and I don’t want you to think I’m psychoanalysing you all the time.” 

In Bridget’s professional opinion Franky couldn’t have avoided having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Even if you discounted the abusive childhood, then 4 violent years in prison and the trauma of the fire would do it. She didn’t want it to rebound on their relationship in the future if it was untreated.

“So are you saying you don’t want me to talk to you about it?” Franky asked defensively. Franky didn’t know if she’d ever tell Bridget everything. The drug dealing and the violence she’d dished out wasn’t something she ever wanted Bridget to know about.

“No, of course I want you to talk to me. It’s just that…. you’ve been through a bit…”

“No, I don’t want to talk to anyone, being with you is healing me.”

“As long as you do talk to me. I remember when we started our sessions you said that talking was a waste of time. I hope you still don’t think that?”

Franky gathered her into her arms again and kissed her. “It’s good to talk, but sometimes it’s even better not talking.”


	5. Meeting up with an old friend

After they had been together for a few weeks Bridget left for a week's skiing. Every August for years she and a group of friends had a week skiing in the Victorian Alps. It was always one of the highlights of her year, but this year she was reluctant to leave Franky. However it had been booked and paid for and Franky encouraged her to go. There was no question of Franky going as she had to sign into the local police station three times a week as part of her parole conditions. "Next year." Bridget promised, "you'd love skiing. Lots of fresh air, exercise, great food and great wine by the fire in the evenings." Franky wasn't so sure, she hadn't met any of Bridget's friends yet and wasn't sure if she would be able to put up with a week of them. Though the thought of Bridget whizzing down the slopes in a tight fitting ski outfit was appealing.

The day Bridget left for skiing, it took Franky 2 minutes of googling to find Erica. She was working as a solicitor at Legal Aid. She considered ringing the number to see if it was really her but of course it was. That afternoon she found herself lounging in the lobby in the Legal Aid building watching people come and go. She got there at 4:30 and prepared to wait until she saw her. She had plenty of time on her hands. Careful not to look like a client, she had dressed up in some of the clothes Bridget had bought her. Black jeans, a green shirt, a jacket and boots. There was nothing of the ex crim about her (she hoped). At 5:30 her patience was rewarded – the lift pinged and out strolled Erica looking pretty much the same as when she last saw her but more relaxed. Franky’s heart started thumping. God, she was nervous. She walked over to the exit doors so that she was there just before Erica was. Deep breath, “Hello!” she smiled into Erica’s face. Erica stopped dead, a look of shock came over her face, “Franky!” Erica quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching them. An old reflex. 

“Well, fancy running into you.” Franky felt more confident as she at least had the element of surprise.

“You’re out?” Erica didn’t look happy about it.

Franky didn’t answer – just raised her eyebrows watching her. There was silence while they looked at each other.

“Would you like a drink?” Franky tried not to sound pleading.

“No, I’ve got something on.”

“At 5:30? Surely you’ve got half an hour to spare? I owe you a drink to thank you for all you did for me.” She gave her best and most sincere smile.

God she was hard to resist. Erica looked at her watch, “OK – half an hour.”

There was a pub around the corner. They walked silently there. Once they arrived Erica scanned the place for people she knew – typical, thought Franky. “What would you like to drink?” She asked politely.

“A gin and tonic.” Franky put the order to the barman and took the few minutes she waited to take a few breaths. She took the drinks over to the table where Erica was sitting, looking awkward. Franky raised her beer. “Cheers, nice to see you. It was a bit of a bonus to run into you, I’ve only been out for a few weeks.”

Erica didn’t bother to challenge her as to what she was doing in the Legal Aid lobby. She tried to get on the front foot, “So what are you planning on doing? Where are you living?”

“I’m living in a flat – I’ve got a job 25 hours a week and I’m about to start studying – law.”

“That’s great. Well done. Here’s to you.” Erica raised her glass and for the first time since she’d seen Franky she relaxed slightly and gave a smile. 

“I really did want to thank you. You made such a difference to me. I lived for those tutoring sessions. If it wasn’t for that and having something to aim for, I think I’d be dead.” Franky looked at her earnestly.

Erica looked properly at Franky for the first time. She looked different; softer, more relaxed, not so spiky. She looked happy. Of course, not seeing her in teal was a huge improvement. She needed to stay on her guard though, Franky was a mind reader, and she wasn’t keen on having her mind read. 

She kept it polite, distant, “That’s great. I’m so glad for you.”

“So, what about you, how long have you been at Legal Aid?” Franky couldn’t help but look at her hand, the ring was gone.

“Two years. It’s good, I like it.”

“Bit different to running a prison?”

Erica didn’t want to go there, “Mmmm.” She took a gulp of her drink. She hadn’t had a lot of lunch and the gin was going straight to her head. She wouldn’t put it past Franky to have ordered a double. She stared at the table. The silence grew between them. Franky felt the familiar frustration – was the only way she could get through to this woman to slam her against a wall and kiss her? She stared at Erica’s bowed head. Erica could feel the stare and looked up. Franky’s eyes bored into her. She found herself staring back, unable to break the look. After what seemed like ages she dragged her eyes away, finished her drink and stood up. “Thanks for the drink Franky, I’ve got to go.”

Franky thought quickly, she pulled a pen out of her bag and wrote her mobile number on a coaster and handed it to Erica. “Here’s my number.” She didn’t feel like she could kiss her goodbye, Erica had made it clear she didn’t want that. “Bye.” Erica left the pub with the coaster still in her hand. She’ll probably throw it in the nearest bin, Franky thought. Oh well, I’ve done it. She sat down in her seat feeling disconsolate, then wondered why. What was she even doing here? Trying to tie up loose ends, one part of her brain thought, the other snorted, ‘Oh yeah. You just wanted to see if you felt the same.’ Well she did feel the same, sort of. Erica was a challenge that she hadn’t been able to overcome. She wanted to make her feel the same way, make her see that they had something. Crack open that self imposed barrier. Her phone rang, it was Bridget. She answered, “Hi babe.” 

Bridget’s voice washed over her like a balm, “Where are you, it sounds like you’re in a pub?”

“I am – I’ve been having a drink with an old friend. She just left.”

“You sound a bit down, are you ok?”

“Yes – just that we didn’t have a lot in common any more. I’m fine. Just missing you. How was the skiing?”

“Great – I’m exhausted. I’m sitting by the fire having a red and wishing you were here.”  
   
000000000000000

The next evening Franky was slouched on her couch having a beer and watching some mindless junk on TV. Her mobile beeped, it was from a number she didn’t recognise. “I’m in room 756 of the Mercure. There’s a key for you at reception. Erica.” She almost leapt off the couch in amazement. Erica had obviously done some heavy thinking over the past 24 hours. Wow. She paced around her small flat. May as well start as she meant to go on. Without thinking further about it she typed out, “I want you naked in the bed waiting for me”, and pressed Send. A second later a message pinged back, “Yes.” Oh God – a huge charge went through her. She sent another one back, “No touching yourself.” She grabbed her bag, the keys to Bridget’s car that she had a loan of while she was away and almost ran down the stairs.

She got to the seventh floor of the hotel about half an hour later and walked along the corridor to room 756. The corridor seemed to go on forever with all the doors looking identical. She felt spacy, almost as if she was having an out of body experience. She felt her life changing with each step she took. How many years had she waited for this, fantasised about it? Her heart pounded and she could feel her palms getting sweaty. She waited a moment at the door to the room to collect herself and then let herself in. The room was dimly lit. Her eyes adjusted, she could see Erica’s blond head above the covers looking at her. She moved into the room and threw off her backpack. She walked towards the bed and pulled the covers off. Erica twitched slightly. She was naked. What a beautiful sight. Franky stared down the length of her body drinking it in. Erica didn’t move, just watched her. 

Franky pulled her clothes off while keeping her eyes fixed on Erica. As soon as she was naked she moved to the bed and straddled her, one thigh between her legs. Before she bent in for the kiss she could feel a sound deep in her throat – something between relief and desire. Erica didn’t move, just kept watching her. Franky put one hand in Erica’s hair, pulling roughly and the other at her throat and then dived into the kiss. Erica’s body bucked. 

Franky woke with a start at about 4, her heart pounding, in the middle of a dream. She was back at Wentworth in a session with Bridget who was saying to her, “I’m going to stop you self sabotaging, Franky.” Oh God, she had to get out of here. She slipped as quietly as she could out of bed, dressed and left the room. She was half way home before she allowed herself to think. Oh my God, she thought, have I just done the second stupidest thing in my life?


	6. What have you done?

Franky knew this was a bad idea, but there wasn't really any alternative. She rang the doorbell, a few seconds later Bridget had her in her arms, "God I missed you,” she whispered in Franky’s ear. Franky breathed in her smell. She looked fit and brown from the skiing and happy. She moved towards the kitchen. "Get yourself a wine, I've just got to check the meal." Something smelled lovely. There was a bottle of red on the bench with two glasses. Franky poured them both a wine. Bridget stirred something on the stove then turned around. Franky passed her the wine, but somehow couldn't meet her eyes. 

Bridget took her hand and moved towards the couch. "Franky, what is it?" Bridget knew her so well that Franky knew this was only a matter of time. She started to feel physically sick.

"Nothing." 

"Look at me."

Franky looked at her. Bridget felt a chill at the back of her neck, "Tell me. Has something happened?"

A look of guilt passed over Franky's face. Bridget waited, her eyes on Franky's, dread creeping through her body. 

"I met up with Erica and we...."

Bridget slumped into the couch as if she'd been stabbed, her wine sloshed. She shakily put it on the coffee table.

"And you slept with her?" Her eyes bored into Franky's. Bridget’s anger was white hot.

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Twice."

"Did you look her up?"

"Yes.... I was curious as to what she was doing. I felt we had unfinished business." It was a weak explanation. How could she explain the pull Erica had over her? The thing between them?

Bridget’s voice was quiet, but she seethed with anger, “That’s such a low act. I expected better of you. Why didn’t you tell me at the beginning that you still wanted Erica? When we spoke about it you led me to believe that it was ancient history. I know you’re not in love with me but I thought you had feelings. ”

Franky said nothing.

"When were you going to tell me? Were you just going to have us both?" Franky hadn't thought about any of these things. "Answer me, did you tell her you were seeing someone?" Bridget's eyes flashed. 

"No, I didn't."

"So what were the last three weeks then?"

"Bridget, I ...."

"I thought they meant something. They obviously meant nothing to you." They meant the world to me, she thought. I've been such a fool. It was too much too soon, I should have slowed it down. Whenever she was unable to understand the motivations of another person she tried to think of them as a child. See the 14 year old behind the adult facade, or in this case the 10 year old. You could often see the 14 year old that Franky once was behind her bravado, but to understand her, you needed to see the 10 year old. Maybe that's what she still was, a frightened, abused and abandoned child. Franky grabbed what she wanted, it's what helped her survive inside. A 10 year old couldn't articulate their motivations, and it seemed Franky for all her intelligence couldn't articulate them now. Did she want to have a relationship with that person? At this, she crumbled. Oh but I loved her. Love her. Loved her despite all her faults and all she knew of her. The anger that was keeping her buoyed up left her and she started crying.

Franky wished the anger had stayed, wished she punched, slapped and kicked her, wished she had shouted at her. Bridget of course didn't do any of this. As soon as she was able to take a breath she whispered, "Can you go." Franky stood up, and moved out of the room, "I'm sorry." She left the house and staggered up the path. The tension of the last half hour hit her and she leant against the front fence. Her chest felt unbearably full and heavy. She slid down the fence and started sobbing.

Franky had lost track of time when she heard a car draw up at the front of the house. She stood up. A dark haired woman jumped out of the car. She was wearing ugg boots and what looked like pyjama bottoms with a winter coat over the top. It had to be Bridget's best friend Jo. Bridget must have called her as Jo was settling in to a quiet night on the couch. She looked at Franky. "Are you Franky?" she asked coldly. Franky nodded. "What have you done?" She asked.

No point lying or getting offended now. Jo obviously had a very low opinion of her and she hadn't even met her. Sensible woman. "Slept with someone."

Just then Franky's phone in the back pocket of her jeans went off. It was a text. Jo walked past her to the front door. "Sounds like someone wants you. If I were you I'd fuck off home." She said the last three words slowly. If it weren’t for her gentle upbringing Franky thought she’d be the type of woman to send her sprawling. She turned away from Jo’s anger and walked off. Jo rang the doorbell. Franky cringed at the thought of what would greet Jo there. She had caused a lot of pain to others in her life but this was probably the worst. 

How wonderful to have a friend like that, who would come running when you called, who hated people who hurt you. She supposed you had to be able to give and receive. She could imagine Bridget was the type of friend who could be called on at 2 in the morning if you needed her. 

Franky walked towards the tram stop, down the dark, quiet streets. Everyone in their houses, cuddled up watching a movie together, kissing their kids goodnight, planning tomorrow. Or, in Bridget's house, sobbing their heart out to their best friend, heartbroken because their worthless ex crim girlfriend had fucked someone else. After all Bridget had done for her. Breaking through her bravado, getting her out, loving her so completely. No one had ever loved her like that, maybe never would again. Was Erica even capable of loving her? Lusting for her yes, but loving? 

She pulled her phone out to check the message. It was from Erica, of course. "Can I come over to yours tonight?" They'd had one night in a hotel and one in Franky's flat. She couldn't help but notice that Erica hadn't invited her to her place. She obviously didn't trust her enough. She didn't think she was up to sex with Erica. She tapped out, "meet me for a drink at Fiorines at 8." Time to have a conversation.


	7. How long does it take to fall in love?

Erica turned up about 10 minutes late to Fiorines. She looked at Franky, "God, you look like you've been through the wringer. What's the matter?" Franky didn't think there was any point dissembling. They were used to sitting across a table together, just not talking honestly.

"I broke up with my girlfriend."

Erica looked surprised, "Girlfriend! You’ve only been out for 3 weeks!"

Franky grinned, "Are you surprised by the fact I got a girlfriend so quickly or that we've broken up so quickly?"

"Well, not surprised at either really." She grinned.

"I knew her before I got out."

Erica frowned, that didn't sound good. "Was she a friend from before?"

"No, I knew her inside"

That was worse. 

"Oh, how long has she been out?"

"She was a staff member."

Erica now looked incredulous. She couldn't imagine Franky with a screw. "Who?"

"Her name's Bridget, she's a psychologist."

This was suspicious. "She wasn't counselling you was she? You know she could be struck off for that."

"Well she was for a while and then she stopped when she realised she had feelings. Besides, you can talk!"

There was silence. They sipped their drinks. Erica thought to herself, well, you couldn't put it past Franky! You had to give it to her. This Bridget sounded like a bit of a predator though, she wondered if she’d done it to other inmates.

"So did you tell her we'd slept together?"

"Yes." Franky cringed at the thought of what had happened that evening and thought of what Bridget was feeling like now. "She was in love with me. I've really hurt her, I feel terrible."

This was a side of Franky Erica hadn't seen. Honest, empathetic, sad. Though she supposed there were many sides of Franky she hadn't yet seen.

“Well it sounds like it’s good that you broke it off early.”

“Early? I think it was far too late for her.”

“But it’s only been three weeks.”

Was Erica being intentionally dense? “But it can only take a few seconds to fall in love.” She wondered if Erica had ever truly been in love. Had she ever been in love herself? She hadn’t, not like the way Bridget was in love with her. She thought she was in love with Bridget but really she was just interested in her, grateful to her and sexually attracted to her. She now realised that that wasn’t ‘being in love.’ Being in love meant you put your whole future in the hands of another person. Handed over your happiness to them, made sacrifices, trusted them. She realised now the full extent of Bridget’s love which she hadn’t quite believed when they were together. Maybe it was part of her self loathing, she kept thinking that Bridget’s love would last as long as the intense sexual attraction did, it would peter out as these things did and she would move on to someone more suitable. 

Erica moved closer and put her hand on Franky’s leg, “Can we go back to your place?”

Franky edged away. “So are you seeing anyone?”

Erica sat back, “No.”

“Do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

It was just as she thought, Erica didn’t trust her enough to invite her to her house. Franky finished her drink. “No, I don’t think I’m up for anything tonight.” 

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000  
   
Franky had been pleasantly surprised when she got a text from Erica the next day inviting her to dinner. “Progress!” she thought to herself, Erica must be starting to trust her. She splurged and bought a very nice Pinot noir, dressed carefully and turned up at the time Erica asked. Her flat was on the 5th floor of a modern building with a big balcony with views of the river. The table was set for two and music playing. When she arrived Erica gave her a kiss on the lips and then pulled away towards the kitchen. 

“I bought some champagne, do you like it?” Franky had never had French champagne but was sure she would like it. Erica poured out two flutes. Franky sat at the bench sipping hers (it tasted delicious) and watched Erica cook. She marvelled at how lucky she felt. She couldn’t believe it, she was at Erica’s place and she was cooking dinner for her. They both sipped their champagne quickly, nervously. 

Conversation flowed easily over dinner – Erica told her some funny stories about her clients at work. Franky filled her in on the people they knew in common at Wentworth. They both visibly relaxed. After they’d finished eating they moved to the couch. The conversation turned, as of course it would, to Wentworth. Franky told her that she’d really missed her when she left. Neither mentioned the kiss, but it hung there at the back of both their minds. 

Erica said, “I kept thinking of you after I left. We had unfinished business. I thought of you a lot while I was at Wentworth too of course. It was like when you were in the slot. That 5 weeks lasted forever. I felt so guilty, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I’d wake up in the morning and think of you being in there all night. If I was out for a walk I’d think of you in that dark cell.”

Erica poured more wine, they were almost through the bottle. She really had had too much, the champagne to begin with and now the red wine. Her head felt pleasantly fuzzy. It was nice to be able to talk to Franky without trying to keep her guard up or wondering who was watching. She felt her whole body relaxing. She leaned back into the couch. “Especially since I knew you hadn’t done it.”

Franky sobered up in an instant. “What?” Erica realised she’d said too much, it had all happened a couple of years ago now so she had forgotten all the details. She’d forgotten that Franky hadn’t known that Erica knew she was innocent. “I knew that teacher had given Toni the drugs.”

Franky felt herself go cold. She tried to keep her voice normal. “So you let me sit in that cell for 5 weeks knowing I was innocent? Why didn’t you tell Channing?”

“Come on Franky, it’s not like I didn’t know you were dealing drugs. That’s how you got your power. You didn’t do that but there were plenty of other things you did that you weren’t caught for.”

Franky stayed very still. She didn’t trust herself to move, if she did she thought she would tear Erica limb from limb. Pull the top of her head off and look inside to see what was going on there, find out how she ticked. “But why didn’t you tell Channing? You stood there while he told me I was a waste of space.” The memory of that interview was a real low point.

“Well I couldn’t otherwise because I’d get the blame for the teacher bringing the drugs in – he was under my supervision. I could have lost my job.”

Franky had been right all along, she didn't care about the women at all, all she cared about was her career. They were both players, but at least she was playing for survival, Erica was playing for the next job. To think that Erica could have got her out by confessing that she knew all along who the real culprit was. It didn't bear thinking about. She’d love to see how long Erica would survive in the slot. She bet she’d be hallucinating and climbing the walls within a week. Franky started pacing around the room, she could feel her control slipping. 

"Don't get all self-righteous now, Franky, I know what you're capable of. We're both as bad as each other. Don't tell me you didn't have innocent victims."

Of course Erica was right, she was capable of almost everything and there were plenty of innocent victims. But she hoped, deep down, that Erica had cared for her. Erica lusted after her and was attracted to the dark side of her. She didn't care for her. She felt guilty about locking her up for no reason, but no more so than she would have for any of the other women. The desire to hurt her was becoming overwhelming, she stared at Erica, trying to control herself. Erica had now sobered up sufficiently to realise that the look Franky was giving her was dangerous. She started to feel scared. God, she wouldn't have a chance if Franky decided to attack. She looked around for her phone. Why the hell did she invite her here? Why did she tell her that she knew she was innocent of the drugs charge? Jesus, what was she thinking?

Franky saw the look of fear on Erica’s face. She was taken back to the look of fear on Bridget’s face when she’d confronted her about the letters. The letters that Erica had never got, had never known existed. The anger left her suddenly and she burst into tears. Erica looked shocked, she’d never seen Franky cry like this. Relieved, she made a move towards her to comfort her. Franky brushed her away. She sobbed into her hands. 

Really, Franky was full of surprises, Erica thought, one minute she looked like she was about to hit you, the next she was crying. It couldn’t be because she’d spent 5 weeks in the slot 2 years ago on a false charge – plenty of worse things had happened to her than that. 

Franky cried for the girl who had written the letters and the waste of emotion, but most of all she cried because of the monumental mistakes she’d made. She ditched Bridget on a whim for someone who just wanted to sleep with her. She and Erica had always been at cross purposes. The more she thought of it the more she realised that Bridget truly loved her for all her flaws. She wasn’t in love with the idea of fucking a dangerous sexy criminal, as Erica was, she wanted her. She’d just been a dark fantasy for Erica.

She stopped crying as suddenly as she started, stood up, found a tissue, blew into it. She gave Erica one last look, grabbed her bag and walked out.


	8. Sickness

About a month after she and Franky had broken up, Julie Begg, Franky’s parole officer, rang Bridget. Franky was supposed to sign in at the police station that morning and hadn’t, which meant that she was now technically in breach of her parole. Julie had rung her number a few times but there was no answer. Bridget assured her she’d try and find her. She wasn’t going to let her go back inside after all she’d done for her. She rang Franky’s number: there was no answer. It was midday. There was nothing for it, she would have to go around to Franky’s flat and see if she could find her, even if she was in the middle of some fuck fest with Erica. Stupid girl. 

Franky’s flat was about a 10 minute drive from Bridget’s place. She knocked at the door nervous at what she might find there. It was a month since that terrible night when Franky had told her about Erica. She felt she was now getting back to some level of normality. The piercing pain when she thought of Franky had now turned into a dull ache. 

There was no answer, she knocked again and called Franky’s name. She heard some movement in the flat and eventually the door opened. Franky was half doubled over, her hair sweaty and stuck to her head, dressed only in a t-shirt and undies, looking terrible. She opened the door and then raced to the bathroom. Bridget could hear sounds of vomiting. She went into the flat. Thank God there was no sign of Erica. Bridget followed her first instinct which was to go into the bathroom. She pulled Franky’s hair back and held her forehead over the bowl. Franky’s body convulsed violently. The vomiting went on for some minutes until there was nothing more to come out. Franky groaned, her eyes filled with tears from the convulsions. She stood up and staggered back to her bed. Bridget found a face washer in the bathroom, rinsed it in warm water and then wiped Franky’s face. She then got a glass of water. “Here, have a little sip.” She looked around the flat which seemed to be in some disarray. There were clothes on the floor and dirty cups, glasses and plates littered around. The place smelt of vomit. “How long have you been sick?” 

“I woke up in the middle of the night vomiting. I must have eaten something.” There wasn’t a smell of alcohol so it must be a bug or food poisoning.

“Julie Begg rang me to tell me you’d missed signing in. I’ll ring her and tell her the problem.” Julie was relieved to hear that there was an explanation. She told her that if she got a medical certificate then all would be well. Franky wasn’t in any state to go to the doctor. Bridget had a friend who was a GP so rang her and organised her to come around that afternoon and give Franky a medical certificate. Franky had fallen asleep so Bridget gathered up the cups and plates and moved into the kitchen. She checked the fridge – there was nothing in it but a six pack of beer, margarine and some old bacon. She washed the dishes, dried them and put them away and wiped over the bench. She noticed that the photo of the two of them that she’d given Franky for her birthday was on a bookshelf. She then went into the bathroom, opened the window and cleaned the toilet. She hoped Franky wouldn’t think she was interfering. She didn’t feel she could gather up the clothes. Once she’d finished with the bathroom Franky woke up, her face pale and sweating. She made a rush for the bathroom. 

After that bout Franky collapsed on the bed again. Bridget thought she might go out and get some supplies. She got a bowl and put it next to Franky’s bed and refilled her glass of water. “I’ll just pop out and get some things. Is there anything you feel like?” 

“No,” Franky groaned. 

An hour later Bridget was back. She’d bought lemonade, bread, vegemite, tea, magazines and a couple of DVDs. She’d also been back to her house and got a change of sheets. Franky was awake but unmoving on the bed. She looked miserable. Her eyes followed Bridget round the room. “Thanks, you don’t need to do anything. I think the vomiting has finished, you can go now.”

“I’ll go once my friend comes to give you a medical certificate. She’ll be here in an hour. Why don’t you have a shower, put on a clean t-shirt and I’ll change your sheets.” 

That sounded good to Franky, the smell of vomit on her kept making her sick. 

Bridget poured some lemonade out, “Here, have a little sip of this, it will give you some energy.” Franky did and kept it down. She got a clean t-shirt and undies from the drawer and showered. Once she was out she collapsed gratefully into the clean sheets. She curled up in the bed and slept heavily. When she woke it was dark outside. Bridget was still there. “You look better. How about some more lemonade and I’ll make you some toast.”

“Isn’t your friend coming?” Franky hadn’t thought about her parole sign in when she was sick, but now she was better she was worried. 

“Yes, she’s been and given me the medical certificate. Julie has that now and has told the police. Don’t worry it’s all sorted. You’ll just have to report when you’re better.”

“Thanks.” Franky felt the tears slip out of her eyes.

“Now, try and eat something.” Bridget had made vegemite soldiers, “Hope this is how you like your vegemite? Just little bites. Do you feel like lemonade or some tea?”

“Tea.”

Once she’d eaten and kept things down she felt almost normal again. God Bridget was amazing, Franky thought. If she hadn’t looked her up she could have been stuck in the flat for days with no-one visiting or calling, possibly in breach of her parole. Bridget probably assumed she was still with Erica so it made her even more amazing. 

“I got a couple of magazines and movies for you if you feel up to it?” She’d chosen Billy Elliot and Bridesmaids. “I’ll go. Where’s your phone? Ring me if you need me.” She put a glass of water, the phone and remote control by her bed and brushed her knuckles lightly over Franky’s hairline.

Franky felt like crying again. Please don’t leave me, please don’t, she thought. Bridget could hear the silent plea but wasn’t going to stay. One day they might be friends but it was far too early for her for that. She left.


	9. The Campaign

Franky had been lonely most of her life, really since she was 10, but had become used to it. The few days after she recovered from her illness without Bridget were the loneliest of her life. Her isolation was really brought home to her; no parents, siblings, friends or lover. Her only contact with people were her workmates. She sent an extravagant bunch of flowers to Bridget the day after she recovered from her vomiting bug with a card saying, “Thanks, love Franky.” She received a brief text after the flowers arrived from Bridget – “Thanks for the flowers, glad you’re better.”

In the days after she thought more and more about her feelings for Bridget and what she’d felt for Erica. She needed to think of them both out of Wentworth. Inside, her view of them had been clouded because she had been grateful for any attention and they’d both given her that. Did she just like them because there was no-one else decent around? 

She ran a long way every day and found that was the best way to think. She thought more and more of Bridget. She found she’d be washing up at work and be thinking of her, going to sleep she thought of her body and waking up she thought of her. She appreciated more and more how good a person she was. The fact that she’d cared enough about her to seek her out when she thought she’d breached her parole and looked after her when she was sick gave her some hope that Bridget still cared. She’d held her head while she was spewing, that must mean something! She determined that she would try and make amends with her and win her back if Bridget would have her. Once she’d made that decision she felt like a weight had been lifted off her. She felt more positive and had something to plan for. She realised that the constant jockeying for top dog while she was inside kept her alive. Now she had another campaign to wage she felt the old Franky come back. She felt less sorry for herself, less lonely and more confident. 

Franky loved how together and self possessed Bridget was. It was so sexy. She loved how she called her out on things, saw through her bullshit, and refused to be intimidated. She was challenging, she wasn't a pushover. That day in one of their sessions when Franky decided to try and get the upper hand was a great example of that. Franky had basically told her she knew she had a thing for her but Bridget refused to be intimidated, even though Franky now knew she had been right. That exchange had really set the tone for their relationship: Bridget wasn't going to be dominated.

The Friday night after she’d made her decision she had finished work early and had gone down to the local pub with one of the waitresses from work, Naomi. They’d got themselves a drink and started playing pool. As she was waiting for her shot Franky saw a familiar figure. It was Bridget who had arrived at the pub with a group of friends. A charge hit Franky’s chest. Now was her opportunity to start the campaign. The group was sitting slightly out of sight of the pool table but Franky was able to keep an eye on them without Bridget noticing her. After about 20 minutes she saw Bridget leave the group and head for the toilets. She looked over at Naomi, “Sorry mate, gotta pee.” She left her cue and headed for the toilets. She didn’t want to surprise Bridget there, besides, it wasn’t the most romantic spot, so she waited outside. Bridget appeared after a few minutes and almost collided with her. She looked shocked and blushed. “Hi Franky, what are you doing here?” Franky gave her the full throttle, no holds bar smile. “Hiya.” She touched her hand. “I’m glad I ran into you. Can we talk?” Bridget looked towards the group she was with, “Um, I’m here with friends…” Franky looked into her eyes, “Please?” Bridget couldn’t resist, “OK.”

Franky thought quickly, she’d been to the pub once before, “there are some couches upstairs. Shall we go up there?” Bridget nodded.

“What would you like to drink?” Franky asked

“I’ll have a sauvignon blanc.”

Franky walked towards the bar and opened her wallet. There was no money there. Damn! She walked back towards Bridget, “Sorry, but I don’t have any cash…” Bridget smiled and opened her wallet and pulled out $20. As she opened it Franky noticed a photo there which she hadn’t seen before of a little girl with her front teeth missing. She took the $20 and headed towards the bar. “Thanks, I’ll see you upstairs.”

When she got upstairs with the drinks Bridget was sitting waiting for her with her legs crossed. It reminded Franky of one of their encounters in Bridget’s office in Wentworth. She felt more relaxed, Bridget wasn’t an entirely unknown quantity. 

Franky felt her heart pounding but was determined to say what she was feeling. She sipped her beer, put it on the table between them, then leaned forward, took one of Bridget’s hands and looked at her earnestly. Bridget didn’t lean forward but she didn’t take her hand out of Franky’s. “I’m so sorry, Bridge, I made a big mistake. I want to be with you. I’m in love with you. It took me a while to realise it, but I love you. Can you forgive me?”

There was silence. “You were right when you said in one of those counselling sessions, I do self-sabotage. I did it with us but I’m not going to do it again. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since that horrible night.” 

There was still no response from Bridget.

“Look, the thing with Erica…. it’s over now. But it’s really hard to explain. When I was at my lowest she had faith in me, we spent ages together when she was tutoring me. She pushed me to get my HSC, got me interested in law. There was a sexual attraction but I really liked her as well. I want you to read the letters I sent to her and then you might understand a bit.”

Bridget thought that was a strange request. “I don’t want to read your letters. I want to know why you have now decided that you don’t want to go back to her. Didn’t she want you?”

Franky paused, she didn’t really want to say that she had come to the conclusion that she had just been a transgressive fantasy for Erica. “She wanted to sleep with me. I don’t know if she wanted more than that. I decided that you were the one I wanted.”  
“How do I know that you won’t just go back to her if she crooks her finger, or someone else?”

“You’d have to trust me, I won’t.”

Bridget felt a rush of quiet joy. It was more than she had ever allowed herself to hope for. She knew she would take Franky back on any terms. For self-preservation though, she needed to negotiate, to set terms. Franky was too strong a personality to be allowed to dominate.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

Franky moved off her couch and sat next to Bridget, “Oh baby, I love you. Please give me another chance and I’ll spend my whole life making it up to you.”

It took all of Bridget’s strength to try and resist her physical presence. All she wanted to do was to dive into Franky’s arms. “I’ll have to think about it Franky. I was so hurt. Can you promise me you’ll never get back with Erica?”

“Yes, I promise.” They both sat there silently, shoulder to shoulder.

After a while Franky said, "I feel like getting out of the city. Would you like to go down the coast tomorrow, have a day out?"

"Yeah, that would be fun."

"We'd have to take your car though, I haven't got around to buying one yet." Franky grinned

"Ok, I'll be at your place at 9 tomorrow." Bridget stood up, kissed Franky on the cheek and left to meet her friends downstairs.


	10. A day out

At 9 o clock the next morning Franky was waiting out the front of her flat with 2 coffees and some muffins. She felt full of anticipation and excitement at the day ahead. Just being out in the fresh air and free to go somewhere was an intoxicating feeling, let alone going there with Bridget.

Bridget’s car turned the corner and her heart rose as she caught sight of Franky waiting for her.

Franky got into the car and handed her the coffee. “Muffin.” “Yes please.” It was a beautiful spring day. They drove south with Bridget’s phone on shuffle. Indigo Girls’ “Ghost” came on,

_“And there's not enough room, in this world for my pain_

_Signals cross and love gets lost and time passed makes it plain_

_Of all my demon spirits, I need you the most_

_I'm in love with your ghost, I'm in love with your ghost.”_

Oh God, thought Bridget, I hope that’s not prophetic.

Franky said, “This is nice, who is it?”

“Indigo Girls.” 

“Mmm, haven’t heard of them.”

Bridget felt deflated. How often was the age difference between them going to be a problem?

Franky put her hand on her leg and leant back into the seat. Bridget glanced at her, she was smiling, looking as relaxed and happy as she’d ever seen her.

After an hour or so of driving they arrived. Bridget parked and they got out and walked along the beach. It was cool in the water but Franky took her socks and shoes off and splashed in the water. “You don’t know how often when I was inside I wanted to feel the sand and water under my feet.” She really felt for the first time since her release, the feeling of freedom.

They found a café and ordered some coffees. Still, even though she was enjoying the day, it did have a purpose. They needed to talk. Franky needed to understand more about Bridget. She started with a question, “Who’s the child in the photo in your wallet?”

Bridget noted Franky’s use of words. The Franky of a month ago would have said, “Who’s the kid?”

“That’s Freya.” Franky waited, this was obviously important. Bridget took a breath. “The photo’s from 5 years ago when she was 5. I haven’t seen her since then.” 

“Why?”

“Well, I was in a relationship with her mother. 10 years ago I met her, Jane, that is, the mum. We started a relationship when she was about 6 months pregnant. It was serious really quickly, she moved straight in, I was there for the birth and all the things that mothers do in the first 5 years of a child’s life. We broke up when Freya was 5 and Jane moved them to Sydney. She won’t let me see her.”

Franky realised how devastating that must be. “How could she do that?”

“Well, I wasn’t on the birth certificate, I hadn’t adopted her, so I had no legal right to see her. We’d talked about it while we were together but everything seemed to be going so well so I didn’t think I needed to. I’ve since discovered that even if we had wanted to, I couldn’t legally. Jane met someone and she didn’t want me to have anything to do with her or Freya anymore. It’s been awful. I really miss her.”

“What an absolute bitch! What a terrible thing to do.” Franky thought to herself, “I’d love to get her alone in a dark alley.” She said instead, “I bet you were a wonderful mum.”

Bridget’s face hardened, she was obviously used to controlling the emotion, “She called Jane mum but she called me Bwidge.” 5 years hadn’t lessened the pain much. She thought of her every day and sent waves of love to her. The really sad thing is that if they ever met again she would be unlikely to remember Bridget. Still even though Jane had done a terrible thing to her she was a good mother, so she didn’t have any worries about Freya’s care.

“You don’t have any photos of her at home?”

“No, I have heaps of photos but it’s too painful for me to have them around.”

Franky couldn’t believe she thought it, let alone said it, but as soon as she had she knew it was so right, “Let’s have a child.”

Bridget sat back in her seat and gave a hollow laugh, “Franky, I’m almost 45, it’s too late for me, besides even if it wasn’t, you’re not ready to have children. Have you ever thought you wanted one before this minute?”

“No, I hadn’t,” admitted Franky, “but I’ll carry it. We’ll make it all right legally though…”

Bridget looked at Franky. She couldn’t imagine her pregnant though she could just imagine her as a parent.

Franky continued, “I haven’t had great role models for parents but with you there I’m sure I’d manage.” The more she thought of it the more right it seemed. “I’ll have it, maybe not for a year or so. I’ll be 30, 31, perfect age. Besides you’d be the most wonderful mother, it’s not right that you don’t have children.”

How would Franky cope with a baby crying all night, dirty nappies, a 2 year old's tantrum? God, why was she even considering this? One month out of prison there was no way Franky was ready to settle down. Besides, who was to say that Franky wouldn't be off when the next pretty thing crossed her path?

“Shall we keep walking?” Bridget asked. She turned away from Franky to hide how much her idea had affected her.

They were silent as they continued their walk along the beach. Franky was determined to keep her campaign moving. “Tell me about your friend Jo? Did she tell you that I met her that night she came to your house, I was waiting out the front. I got the impression that she’s not my biggest fan.” That was an understatement, she didn’t think she’d forget the look of undisguised dislike on Jo’s face.

“We’ve been friends for 25 years, since Uni. She was such a support when all the stuff with Freya and Jane happened. Well, she’s always there for me. I’m lucky.” Franky was worried. What if Jo put their friendship on the line and said to Bridget, ‘go back with that lowlife and that's the end of 25 years of friendship?’ She didn’t think she stood a chance if that happened.

Bridget had an inkling of what Franky was thinking. She knew she'd burn every last friend and family member to be with Franky if it came to it. “She just hates anyone who hurts me. I hate anyone who hurts her.”

“Well, that’s pretty simple.”

Yes, Bridget thought to herself, it is. If she got back with Franky she wouldn’t look forward to that conversation with Jo. But Jo would come round.

It was getting close to lunchtime. “Shall we find somewhere for lunch?” Bridget asked. “I feel like seafood and a glass of white.” Franky nodded, but she felt suddenly down; she couldn’t shake the feeling that her campaign had taken a major setback. Bridget as usual was in tune with her thoughts. She touched Franky’s hand, “Listen, I make the decisions, not Jo.” She laughed, “It’s not as if Jo hasn’t made some terrible decisions in her life that I told her not to!”

Franky felt heartened, her hopes rose. Still, she hoped she wasn’t classed as a “terrible decision.” Well, maybe she was. She supposed time would tell.

They found a perfect place for lunch, on the water. They sat outside under an umbrella. The waiter poured the wine. Franky lifted her glass, “To you.” Bridget was looking beautiful, relaxed and almost happy. Bridget lifted her glass, “To you.” The lunch passed quickly, Franky laughed and flirted and was her extremely charming self. Bridget was reminded of how fun she was to be with. She felt a huge physical pull towards her, it took all her willpower not to reach across the table and grab her. She couldn’t take her eyes off her, she really was the most gorgeous creature she’d ever seen. Franky also had to restrain herself from pushing the table aside and making love to her there and then. “Slowly slowly,” she thought to herself. She was going to let Bridget make the first move.


	11. Journey to the beloved

_“I was moved, too, to see her excited as a child--but no, for there is no childhood excitement to equal the adult journey to the beloved.” _  
― Shirley Hazzard ‘The Bay of Noon’__

The evening of Franky and Bridget’s day out, Bridget had arranged to have dinner with Jo and her family. She arrived to be greeted at the door by one of the children. Jo and Mike were in the kitchen cooking dinner. “Hey Bridge,” Mike came from behind the bench wiping his hands on a tea towel and hugged her, “Haven’t seen you for ages. You look great.” Jo gave her a quick look. Something was up, Bridget was beaming.

There was no opportunity for Jo to question Bridget over dinner – the children had lots of stories to tell her. After dinner they went to watch TV and the three adults discussed the latest political outrages. After about half an hour Mike got up, “I’ll have to excuse myself, I’ve got to go and watch the Wallabies get beaten.”

Bridget poured more wine for both of them and steeled herself for the inevitable question. Jo asked: “So, tell me, what’s happened?”

Bridget told Jo about going round to Franky’s place when she was sick, running into her in the pub, their day out today. “She wants me back and has been doing everything she can to make up for what she did.”

“And you’re inclined to forgive her and go back with her, or have you already?”

“No, I’ve been holding back. But yes, I am inclined to get back with her.”

There was silence, they sipped their wine.

“So what excuse did she have for getting back with that woman? How do you know she’s not going to do it again?”

“Well, Erica had tutored her for a year and helped her get her HSC. They had a very close relationship that hadn’t been resolved. Erica lost her job and left the prison and they had no contact. I can almost understand why she wanted to see her. Maybe I rushed the whole thing. I fell in love with her so quickly but I didn’t really give her time to catch up. She says she’s now in love with me.”

Jo tried not to look sceptical. She thought to herself; the relationship with Erica didn’t work for whatever reason and Franky has now come running back to the safe hands of Bridget.

“She’s even talking about having children together.”

“Children!” Jo exclaimed, “My God, she’s been out of prison for 5 minutes. Surely she’s not thinking that you can have them?”

“Thanks,” said Bridget dryly, “I’m not that bloody ancient! No, she’s prepared to have them.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you were ancient, just that by the time she might be ready…”

Jo stopped and then looked steadily at Bridget and thought of all the heartache she had had with Freya. Babies. That changed everything. Bridget seemed to be trying to conceal her elation.

“Oh Bridge, you don’t need my blessing. You’re obviously still madly in love with her. Did she tell you that I ran into her the night I came to your place?”

“Yes, she did. She seemed to get the distinct impression you don’t like her.”

“Well she’d be right. She was lucky I didn’t hit her I was so angry.”

“I think she’s a bit worried that if you don’t approve of us getting back together then I won’t.”

Jo laughed, “Well she doesn’t know you all that well yet does she?”

“Oh God Jo, I’m so scared and excited, but there’s nothing I can do. I have to give her another chance. I can’t get her out of my head. I don’t think I ever will. Will you be there to pick up the pieces if it all goes to shit again?” She didn’t say it as she wasn’t one for melodramatic pronouncements, but Jo heard the unsaid words, _“She’s the love of my life.”_

Jo got up from her chair and walked around the table. She hugged Bridget from behind, “Course I will. Go on, go to her. But don’t expect me to accept an invitation to dinner for a few weeks, I’m still cross!”

 000000000000000000000000000000000000

 

It was only 9 o’clock. After Bridget left Jo’s she drove to Franky’s flat. Her whole body shook with excitement. She knocked on the door. She could hear movement inside,

“Who is it?” Franky called.

“It’s me.” The door opened, they stared at each other, unsmiling. There were no words. Bridget stepped into the flat, into Franky’s arms, into her future.


	12. I'm helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final, very short chapter. Would love to hear your thoughts on my view of how this relationship could play out.

Franky pulled Bridget inside the flat and slammed the door. They kissed passionately, teeth clashing, their hands remembering the feel of each other’s bodies. Franky’s breathing was ragged. Bridget was breathless, her knees weak. She felt that if Franky wasn’t holding her she’d collapse onto the floor. Franky picked her up and carried her to the bedroom and placed her carefully on the bed. She pulled off her clothes less carefully; a button on Bridget’s shirt popped, she hauled her jeans and pants off, unhooked her bra and dragged it off. Franky’s eyes were black, she’d never felt this level of passion before; all she could think of was to get skin to skin naked with Bridget and to put her hands and tongue all over her. _Bridget had come back to her!_ She pulled her own clothes off. When they were finally naked her hands and tongue roamed all over Bridget’s body which was pinned underneath hers.

Franky croaked over and over again: “I love you, fuck, I’m so in love with you.” She didn’t recognise her own voice. “Never leave me, I’d die. I’m so sorry. God I love you. I want to make love to you. God I’m sorry.”

Tears were falling out of her eyes onto Bridget below. Bridget cupped her face in her hands and kissed her deeply, stemming the words. Franky tasted the salt of her own tears on Bridget’s lips. Franky drew out of the kiss, her eyes bored into Bridget’s, “Do you still love me? Have you forgiven me?” It was the most heartfelt plea Bridget had ever heard. She rolled Franky over onto her back and gazed at her. Her voice was husky with unshed tears, “I never stopped loving you. I’ll always love you. I forgive you.” _No matter what you do. No matter what you say. You’re lodged in me. I’m helpless._

With infinite tenderness she peppered kisses down Franky’s beautiful chest and stomach, lingering on the tattoo that covered her scars and paused at her clit. Franky groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Franky and Bridget do decide to have children together then Bridget will soon have the right to adopt the child. The Victorian government introduced legislation into Parliament on 6 October 2015 to remove any discrimination against same sex couples on adoption matters. Once passed this will bring Victoria into line with the other Australian states. 
> 
> http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-10-06/laws-to-give-victorian-same-sex-couples-right-to-adopt/6829820


End file.
